


Vernal Sweethearts

by kinaesthetic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fairy AU, First Meetings, court heir high fae! fareeha, here be goblins, little bit of fae violence and kidnapping, nixie!Satya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinaesthetic/pseuds/kinaesthetic
Summary: Satya's pond doesn't often get many visitors, so when a band of goblins arrives at her shore, she greets them as she would any other guest. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.A few days before the solstice, Princess Fareeha prepares for her annual ride across the lands to bring Summer, riding from her father's Spring court to her mother's court.It's more important than ever that Fareeha pays attention to what- and who- is in her path.





	Vernal Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

> Over winter break, someone in a discord I'm in re-awoke a very specific part of me that loves and adores fae and always has, so I started writing this.  
> The fae in this particular fic are based off the Spiderwick Chronicles and the accompanying field guide, along with a select bit of faelore that I just kinda... know plus my own interpretation of nature and the place that fae could have in it.
> 
> Satya is a nixie: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b9/a9/f9/b9a9f914d0561f93ccf492afde54d3e9.jpg

Her pond is not _slimy._ It’s _smooth_ , exquisitely so, like the back of a frog or the new skin of a growing reed or the way tadpoles feel sliding down one’s throat. The algae that floats on the surface is her roof, a carpet only the foolish would dare step on. It’s _soft,_ not _unsightly_ or _ugly;_ it’s not supposed to look like moss, because it isn’t _moss._ At least the lily pads that adorn the shore-edge are spaced just so, creating an even pattern around her pond.  The cattail reeds have evenly distributed patches amongst the waterside bushes. The muskrat den is well-aligned with the east-west axis. Certainly, of all the ponds in this forest, this is the most aesthetically pleasing. Fae and humans alike have told her as much throughout the decades, much nicer than any others.

Nonetheless, the insulting comments filter down to Satya like sunlight.

“Who are these imbeciles?” Satya mutters to herself, bubbles burbling out of her gills as she opens her mouth. She pauses from where she is smoothing the mud down, patting new spring-green oak leaves into a green gradient for her bed. As per her agreement with the lesser inhabitants of the pond, her dwelling is the only mud allowed to be tamed. From here, she can see the crayfish scuttling in the mud of the rest of the pond, and one of the muskrats diving in to find a meal. She can also see, just barely, the shadow of feet among the reeds of the only sandy bank of her pond: the eastern bank.

Unable to stand the continuous jeering, Satya settles her feet under herself, kicking off with her strong haunches. She launches herself toward the surface, flicking her finned feet only once or twice to reach it. Her head breaks the surface, her slick hair gaining a crown of algae as she peers toward the shore.

 _Goblins._ Five of the squat beasts splash around in the shallows, several body lengths from her. Satya kicks her legs lazily, bobbing in the water with only her eyes and top of her head exposed. Only when the goblins begin throwing rocks and algae at each other and digging in the mud for some unseen treasures does she submerge and swim closer. The band of goblins pays no mind as Satya slithers up the embankment and peers out from behind a clump of reeds.

“You have no idea what it takes to maintain such a pond, do you?” Satya huffs, sinking back into the water with a burble. The goblins scramble out of the water, chattering and screeching obscenities as Satya moves closer, keeping the top of her head barely visible. They stare transfixed as she folds her arms under her chin and settles on the shallow bank.

“Would you mind not disturbing the bank? I prefer to keep it pleasant for visitors, such as yourselves.” Satya stretches her lips in the approximation of a smile. The goblins stare at her; their wide-soulless eyes reflecting Satya and the pond behind her.

“Muddle the water we did not mean. Apologies given; we were too keen.” says one of the goblins, his squashed face scrunched up in fear. It sets down the pebbles at the bank. Judging by the dingy red scarf it’s wearing, Satya supposes it must be the band leader. The others follow its lead and return their pebbles and bits of reeds. Satya watches amused as the reeds bob in the ripples of the shore.

“Goblin meat we are. Never sweet it is!” The goblin that squeaks this poor rhyme drops to its knees in the mud. Satya stops smiling and tilts her head in confusion.

“I don’t eat visitors of any kind.” She paddles backward so she can sit back on her haunches and waggle her blunt, webbed hands at them in lieu of further explanation. She crosses her legs and leans forward in interest. “It’s been a while since I’ve had visitors, however. So I would like to know- what of the world beyond my pool? Have you any stories?”

The band leader grins, showcasing the bits of glass, bone, and metal shards embedded in its gums- goblin teeth, stolen when nature would not give. Satya tries hard to hide her flinch, but the goblins notice. They jeer at her, creeping closer.

“In this old home, new souls will rest. Useless, you are. Begone, pest!” cries the band leader, leaping forward to sink its claws into her hind limbs. She hisses in surprise, kicking at it.

Satya scrambles backward, the long toes of her feet hindering her in the shallow water as the goblins advance. Not only do the five troublemakers rush her, but, she realizes with horror, there are another dozen crawling out of the cattail reeds on either side of her. She kicks off of the sloping bank, trying to propel herself further into the pond. Flailing in the water, she knocks a few goblins off their feet but the remaining ones unfurl a vine net and toss it over her. Satya screams, an ungodly sound that tears out of her throat and stuns the goblins closest to her. She flares her gills and lashes out with long limbs, trying to dislodge goblins from their places on the net.

Before long, the band of goblins- the entirety of the band, Satya hisses in disgust realizing how she’d been tricked- drags her onto the shore. She kicks frantically, shrieking in triumph when she manages to punt two more goblins into the open water of the pond. Several of the creatures jump on her, forcing her face into the muddied grass. She cries out as they pull her hair and beat her with their tiny, reptilian fists. It’s all she can do to cower into a ball, protecting her gills and wrapping her thin membranous tail around herself. The net tightens around her as she listens to them whoop in excitement. Exhausted, Satya reaches out for the edge of her pond, managing only to scrape bits of mud as they begin to drag her away.

She croaks and cries as they drag her through the underbrush of the forest with surprising speed. Sometimes they drag her through the new growth, over mushrooms and flowering shrubs and bushes. Other times, they hoist her onto their squashed heads and carry her. The goblins shriek and taunt her in Goblish, pulling at her hair and biting at her toes when Satya gets too tired to keep them pulled inside the net.

By the time they stop for the night, Satya is all but withered. She stopped croaking and crying miles ago, instead watching the unfamiliar canopy pass her by, too frightened to sleep. The goblins dragged her through a shallow stream a few hours ago and she’d soaked up as much water as she could through the netting. Her skin has since lost all the plumpness from that brief revitalizing bath.

The goblins hoist her net up into a tree, far above their encampment. It doesn’t stop the smoke from their fire from irritating her eyes, even as she keeps her third eyelids firmly in place. She stares at the soft pads of her hands and the way her webbing sticks to itself, dried out and limp like the scummy film of a tepid pond. She takes a deep breath, forcing her gills to close even tighter against the acrid smell. She looks down, shifting cautiously so she doesn’t swing. Around the campfire, the goblins dance and cackle, grabbing sticks from the fire, skipping in circles around the roasting meat. From here, she can hear the terrible gnashing of their mismatched teeth, a cacophony of horrors.

Satya cannot find enough moisture to cry as she spots what they’re cooking. Frogs, skin so much like her own, burning to crisps. The scent wafts up, scalding the tender mucous lining of her nose. She closes her eyes and turns her body skyward once more, trying to ignore how the dry vines pull at her skin. Never before has she felt so utterly hopeless.

Dawn comes all too quickly. Satya jolts awake at the goblins roughly lowering her down. Their journey begins anew. By mid-day, Satya hardly feels alive. The canopy-strained sunlight gives way to the harsh light of the open plain and she struggles weakly, waking from a painful nap. Ahead of them, the base of a mountain looms. Her stomach turns weakly at the newly-excited tones of the Goblish. They begin carrying her through the grass.

Before she can have any further thoughts of becoming a meal for these goblins and their families, a shadow crosses their convoy. The goblins drop her with a screech and begin dragging her across the plains grasses. Tired as she is, she whimpers in pain as the stalks whip her as they fly by. The terrain itself is bumpy and uneven, split by tunnels and shallow ditches. She’s spared no bump or hiccup.

An avian cry splits the air and the goblins scream and gnash their teeth as a huge animal descends, grabbing a goblin with each front talon and stuffing another in its beak. Undeterred, the remaining troop sprint on, galloping on all fours, or on three legs if they are still carrying Satya. She stares in wonder at the griffin that carries away three of her captors.

Another shadow crosses them and, even though the grass conceals the squat goblins, the griffin expertly extracts three goblins from the grass. Satya brings her arms up to hide her face as four smaller griffins attack the remaining goblins, all as they continue to flee toward the mountain ahead. The griffins descend without mercy, forcing them to finally release the net and flee for their lives. The griffin cubs chase, pounce on, and pin the last goblins, holding them down with their talons, then ripping into them with their back paws. Abandoned on the ground, Satya can only watch as the pride decimates the troop with ease, spilling putrid orange goblin blood onto the sod at their feet.

Terror floods her veins like ice shards as the sun disappears behind the looming bulk of one of the adult griffins. Weak as she is, she can only muster a small whimper of fear. The great griffin parts its beak and strikes—

At the net vines? Satya holds her breath as the griffin makes short work of the net, snipping away until Satya’s view is clear once more. A griffin cub trots over and nudges at her, but the parent griffin guides it away.

“Thank you,” Satya croaks, catching the attention of the griffin once more. It makes a deep rumbling noise in its throat and turns away from her, helping itself to a nearby goblin carcass. Dazed, she lays there long after the griffin family finishes their meal and finally takes off.

Satya dozes off for a little while then startles awake at the acrid smell of smoke and a sharp jolt of pain. She struggles to sit up, recoiling in horror as she realizes the sun is burning her dry skin. She looks to her left and, finding it free of corpses, rolls gingerly in that direction. The grass gives way and, aside from having her slightly damper back exposed to the sun instead, she is in approximately the same predicament. She comes to a startling realization.

“I will die here,” she whispers, to no one but herself; it is only her and the flies descending on the goblin remains.

Stolen from _her pond._ Carried _miles_ away. _Dragged. Beaten. Terrified._

Alone.

Satya blinks rapidly, then begins to drag herself through the tall grass, slowly making her way away from trampled grass and carnage into the safety of the standing grass. Immediately, she feels better, especially with the damp dirt soothing her wounded front. She manages to drag herself another handful of feet before collapsing once more and passing out.

When she wakes again, there are a handful of stars in the sky. Satya opens her mouth and finds her tongue is a shriveled thing, crumpled in the bottom of her mouth. She closes her eyes and breathes. The evening air is easier on her lungs. Perhaps because it is cooler. Perhaps because it is damp.

_Damp._

Satya sits up so fast that her head spins, nearly forcing her to lay back down. She braces herself with her hands and opens her mouth again, inhaling deeply. Never having been out of eyesight of her pond before, she finds the sensation bizarre but the dampness is coming from somewhere nearby.

She begins to crawl.

The barbs of the stiff grasses scratch at her as she pushes between them, but she ignores it. She keeps her mouth open, gasping, trying to scent the source of the water. Several times she crosses her own tracks in the dirt. Other times, she comes upon a small puddle, which she laps up. Once, she finds a small hole, deep enough to put her whole face in. Having done this, Satya sits back on her haunches and cups the remaining water in her webbed hands. It soothes the sunburns on her chest and thighs but does little else. All too soon, she finds herself crawling away from the empty hole, following the scent of yet another water source.

The moon passes high overhead, lighting her way. Even so, it is nearly moonset when Satya stumbles into her salvation. One webbed hand sinks into thick mud and she lists to the side, crying out as the motion wrenches her wrist unnaturally. She pulls her arm out with a wet _squelch_ and stares at the beauty in front of her.

Ignoring the twinges of pain, Satya shuffles forward and crawls into the pool. The mud accepts her with ease, letting her prone form sink until she’s half submerged in the shallow water. Satya burbles with contentment as she wiggles her way deeper into the muck until her hair is the only thing above the mud. There’s just enough water that her hair- her gill filaments- can breathe for her for the rest of the night. For now, she lays content and comforted by the soft embrace of this glorified puddle. Sleepy and safe for the moment in the muck, Satya has one last thought before she falls asleep once more: puddles don’t survive summers.

Perhaps neither will she.


End file.
